Don't You Mind, Don't You Mind
by icedintheveins
Summary: While going through a rough time, Blaine learns to rely on his friends and family. Spoilers through 5x03. WARNINGS! canon character death, discussions of depression and suicide.


**prelude.**

Blaine frowns as his mother hands him the bottle of pills. He turns it over in his hand, listening as they rattle inside. A scowl forms on his face as he looks at the label, his distaste only growing when he reads:

ANDERSON, BLAINE  
TAKE ONE BY MOUTH DAILY  
ZOLOFT 20MG

He's already told his mother – insisted that he doesn't need them. Yeah, sure, his therapist said it would be a good idea. And maybe their family doctor agreed, but Blaine thinks this is all a waste. He doesn't need medication, he doesn't need to be seeing a therapist. He's _fine_.

Okay, so maybe things were rough a couple of months ago, but that was a couple of months ago, and he's okay now. He and Kurt are on good terms, and they're well on their way to getting back together. Blaine doesn't know why everyone's still fussing.

He's just been down in the dumps, been a little stressed out – but isn't that how most teenagers are? Especially when they're high school seniors, nervously awaiting acceptance and rejection letters and scrambling to pick the right school and signing up for the right classes. It's a mad dash to start the rest of his life, of course it's a little nerve-wracking.

Seriously. It's – it's not like Blaine has breakdowns all the time. He doesn't self-harm in any way, shape, or form, and his grades are just fine. He eats regularly, and he's been sleeping just fine on the days he's not forced to stay up to study or do homework.

(Yeah, maybe there was that close call with the bottle of pills, but that was when Kurt wasn't speaking to him. That was when he was just starting his friendships with Sam and Tina, and he didn't consider them nearly as close to him as they are now. He was alone and tired, and it was a stupid decision, but he didn't actually kill himself, did he? No. And now he's fine. Honestly.

Goddamn Cooper and his stupid promises to "be there for you, Blaine." If Cooper really wanted to "be there" for him, he wouldn't show up all the time on random visits without calling first, and he wouldn't badger their parents until they promised to send Blaine to a therapist.)

Reluctantly, Blaine twists the cap open and pops it off. He sighs heavily as shakes the bottle over his palm until a single pill falls. He sets down the bottle and picks up the glass of water his mother has waiting for him. He places the pill on his tongue, and with a shaky hand, lifts the water up to his mouth to take a drink. He swallows, and it feels like the pill is made out of lead as it slides down his throat.

They told him it would take four to six weeks to reach full effect, but Blaine doubts it'll make any difference anyway. He's already happy, he's great, he's incredible.

They'll see. Everyone will see. In six weeks, Blaine will feel just the same, and everyone will realize that they didn't even need to go through all of this trouble in the first place. Blaine doesn't need help. He doesn't need pills. And he's most definitely _not depressed_.

.

.

**i.**

Tina's a mother hen. For as long as Blaine's known her, she always has been. She takes care of the whole glee club, always worried about everyone else, always trying her best to help them to the best of her ability.

(She's not a mother hen in the sense that Kurt was. He was strict and firm, and didn't take any of the shit anyone tried to put up. Tina's sweet and encouraging. She simply doesn't try to give up helping, and sooner or later everyone lets her in because they can't bring themselves to turn her down.)

Blaine should have figured that eventually, she'd catch on. For Christ's sake, she saw that nasty cold coming before Blaine even knew his nose was runny.

Adjusting to the medication has been rough. It hasn't affected his mood yet, which Blaine of course suspected, but it's completely fucking up his sleeping schedule. It wakes him up in the morning, giving him something equitable to a sugar rush, and he's wide awake and ready to go until lunch comes. After that, he crashes, and he's desperate for a nap by the time glee rehearsal comes around.

If that weren't enough, Blaine's therapy sessions continuously conflict with glee. There are times that would work better for him, but whenever he gets the chance to ask, someone else has already booked those spots. Blaine's left with the two-o'clock appointments and a missed rehearsal.

This goes on for a two weeks before Tina approaches him.

It's Thursday, and Blaine missed yet another glee practice the day before.

"I'm so glad you're here today," Tina says, sitting down in the seat beside him. "Going through choreography without one of my partners was terrible. I really wanted to get down that dip in the second chorus – you know which one."

Blaine nods. "Oh, yeah. We should probably take some time to work on that outside of rehearsal," he looks to her sheepishly. "I'm sorry I've been missing rehearsal."

"It's fine," Tina replies with a wave of her hand. "You told me whatever you do is important, and I trust you."

She sounds sincere, but guilt still rises in Blaine's stomach.

"So," Tina begins, changing the subject. "How are things going with you and Kurt."

"Fine," Blaine replies. "We talked over the phone for awhile last night. Exchanged gossip, you know – the usual."

"So, you're still on good terms then?" Tina asks, and there's something curious in the way she says it.

"Yeah," Blaine says, nodding. "We've been on great terms since the wedding." He looks away then, feeling the faintest hint of a blush rise up in his cheeks.

Tina nods, humming.

"Anything else going on?" she asks.

"No," Blaine replies. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Tina shakes her head, looking self-conscious. "I'm probably just overreacting. You know me," she says. I'm always so overprotective. It's ridiculous, right?"

"Tina, what's wrong?" Blaine asks, suddenly feeling very concerned.

"Nothing with me," Tina replies with a huff. "It's you I'm worried about."

Blaine blinks, taken aback. "Why?" he asks. "I'm totally fine, Tina."

"You're not," Tina argues. "You haven't been, and that's okay. I just wish you'd talk to me about it."

Blaine sighs, looking away again and running a hand over his hair. He takes a deep breath, lowering his voice as he turns back toward her.

"I'm sorry, Tina," he says softly. "I didn't want to keep anything from you, but it's just – this is stuff is really hard to talk about. I'm still not even sure I know what's going on, really. I just know what everybody else thinks."

Tina looks at him with confusion, giving a silent indication for him to continue.

"Well," Blaine starts. "It seems you've noticed, too. My parents and my brother approached me awhile ago because they thought I hadn't been acting like myself. And they're right," Blaine says with a shrug. "I was in a funk after Kurt and I broke up, but now, my family doesn't think I ever moved out of it. I mean, yeah – it been rough. And I've been sad a lot lately, but since the wedding I've been feeling a lot better. There's nothing to worry about. But my parents didn't buy that."

He sighs again, turning his gaze toward the floor.

"I'm seeing a therapist now," he says, voice almost a whisper. "I don't really like it, and I don't know what to do, but it's keeping my parents happy, so I do it."

Tina reaches out without warning, grabbing his hand. "Well, I'm glad you're talking to someone, Blaine," she says. "Just promise me – you won't be afraid to open up. Bottling things is never good, and I know you're a pro at it."

Blaine hesitates, and Tina gives him a death glare.

He cracks, smirking slightly. "I'll do what I can, Tina."

.

.

**ii.**

Being in charge of glee club isn't easy, especially given how poorly the rest of the kids have responded to Sam and Blaine's weekly assignment. Personally, Blaine thinks it's a great opportunity for the kids to bare themselves a little and learn to come together in support.

In light of this new responsibility, Blaine and Sam have opted for a sleepover to aid them in planning this week out. Blaine had managed to get the clear from his mother; she's smart enough to know that Blaine and Sam are still completely platonic, that all these sleepovers and studies have never amounted to anything more.

After dinner, the two of them settle in Sam's room – Blaine on the bed, Sam at his desk.

"Well, "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" went pretty well I'd say," Blaine says, tapping his chin. "I mean, I know not everyone was crazy about it. I think we just need to try more motivation."

"You think?" Sam asks, looking over at him. "Tina did say she was gonna round up the girls to do the Spice Girls."

"But did they all agree?" Blaine points out. "That's the question. And what about Ryder and Jake?"

"Jake has a choice, I think," Sam says. "But it's a little iffy."

Blaine nods, tapping a pen against his mouth. He's got his notebook open on his lap, filled only with a few scribbles of:

_More Wham?_

_Katy Perry?_

_ Everyone picks an artist from a hat_

He sighs heavily.

"I don't know what else we can do if no one's willing to step forward with their guilty pleasures." He pauses for a moment, a thought running through his mind. "What are you going to do, Sam?"

Sam, looks up, startled. "I don't – I haven't made a decision yet?"

"What are your options?"

Sam stays quiet, blushing slightly. "It's not – I don't want to – I want it to be a surprise," he stammers, but Blaine knows that's not the real reason. He smirks, throwing his notebook from his lap. Instead, Blaine scoots forward, starting at Sam with striking severity.

"Sam, what are you planning?"

"I'm not telling," Sam mumbles, looking away.

"Oh, come on," Blaine huffs. "The whole point of this assignment is to stop being embarrassed and get it out there, man."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam mutters, waving a hand. "But you don't even know the worst of my guilty pleasures. Even _you'd_ judge me, Blaine."

Blaine places a hand to his heart, feigning shock. "No, I wouldn't. Who do you think I am?"

"You're my best friend," Sam says as if it's the most obvious and casual thing in the world. "But, dude – trust me. You don't wanna know. You wouldn't look at me the same."

Blaine can't help it. He lets out a loud laugh.

Sam narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright. And what are you singing, Blaine?"

Blaine's smile fades face, and he shrinks a little on the bed. "Um – " His heart races as Sam waits, looking him over. He wonders if Sam can tell what's going through his mind right now, and if he notices how Blaine deliberately won't look at his lips, or his chest, or his crotch -

"Exactly," Sam says, triumphant. "Even you're embarrassed."

"No, I just – "

"Don't lie to me," Sam interrupts, holding up a hand. "Come on, just tell me what it is, Blaine, and we'll let this go."

"Then you have to tell me yours," Blaine counters.

"You go first," Sam says.

"No. You go first."

"No. You."

"No. _You_."

"So help me, Blaine Anderson. If you keep going I'll – "

"You'll what?" Blaine scoffs.

"This," Sam says, before launching himself forward.

He aims to tackle Blaine, but instead, he trips, knocking Blaine's bag from the bed to the floor. Its contents fall out, and a bottle of pills rolls noisily across the wooden floor, coming to a halt only once it hits Sam's desk chair.

Blaine freezes, and his face visibly pales. Sam looks at him uncertainly. He then scrambles to pick everything up as Blaine stays still, all efforts focused on keeping his cool. Sam grabs the pills last, eyes lingering over the label as he stuffs them back into Blaine's bag. He sets it carefully down on the floor next to his nightstand. He joins Blaine on the bed, and in return, Blaine turns away ever so slightly.

"Look, Blaine – "

"Sam, don't."

Sam is quiet, and Blaine thinks for a long, tense moment. He's been so worried about making his crush obvious lately that he almost forgot what's even worse – he's a freaking nutcase, apparently, and shit – he's been trying so hard to keep it from everyone.

But he said just minutes ago – this week is about letting ago, about being honest and not getting embarrassed.

"I'm – I'm on medication," he says finally, voice quiet.

"I – I gathered that," Sam replies.

"They're antidepressants." Blaine can hardly hear himself, and his throat closes up the moment after the words leave his lips. He didn't want Sam to know. He didn't want _anyone_ to know, let alone Sam.

"It's okay," Sam says, and Blaine wishes it were.

"No, it's not," Blaine argues. "It's not okay. Sam, I – I have to take pills every day because my brain's fucked up. And – I – I have to see a therapist. Sam – my – my mom's gone so far as to threaten me with going to the _hospital_. All of this is so far from okay, Sam."

"Blaine, look at me," Sam says calmly, and it takes Blaine a second because he's nearly hysterical. Every bottled up thought he's had since first seeing Dr. Garcia has just exploded out of him. "Blaine, I've been worried out of my mind since you broke up with Kurt and sunk into that funk. I'm so freaking happy you're getting help, okay? And getting help – that makes you strong, not weak."

"It was more like help was thrust upon me," Blaine mutters.

"You accepted it," Sam points. "And I'm really proud of you, man."

"Really?"

"Really," Sam says confidently, smiling. "And just know – you don't have to keep stuff from me, okay, Blaine? I'm your friend no matter what."

Blaine doubts that – not if he knew Blaine's real guilty pleasure. He doesn't say so, however. He just nods and smiles, thanking Sam quietly. He's not pushing his luck anymore tonight

.

.

**iii.**

It's been six weeks now, and after all the adjustment, Blaine has no choice to admit that, yes – the antidepressants have helped at least a little. He's getting better at being alone. He doesn't ache for Kurt to call him every night anymore, and while his mother has been at home more often since the incident, he finds that he could deal with her going back to work.

He just still isn't sure how to go about all of this now that he's accepted it.

So, he goes to the one person he's sure would be able to help most, the person with a degree in child psychology and a mental illness of her own.

He goes to Emma Pillsbury.

She's polishing the knick-knacks on her desk when Blaine walks in, stopping awkwardly in the doorway. Ms. Pillsbury looks up at the sound of his Oxfords against the tiled floor, her rag still clutched in her hand.

"Well, hello, Blaine," she says, cheerfully. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just – I wanted to talk," he says quietly.

"Go right ahead," she replies. "Take a seat."

As Blaine sits down, Ms. Pillsbury sets down the rag carefully and straightens the pamphlets on her desk. She pushes the hair from her eyes and then scoots forward, folding her delicate hands together and straightening up in her seat.

"Anything in particular you'd like to talk about today, Blaine?" she asks. "Questions about picking the right college? Concerns about your schedule? I know you're an exceptional student, and I'm pretty certain you have enough credits to graduate, but it never hurts to – "

"I don't want to talk about school," Blaine interrupts, and Ms. Pillsbury immediately shuts her mouth. "I – I wanted to talk about something else."

"And what might that be?" Ms. Pillsbury asks.

"Well," Blaine begins, fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan. "Recently, I – well, a couple of months ago, my – my parents made me see a therapist. And I've been taking anti-depressants for a while, and I think they're working – "

"Well, that's good," Ms. Pillsbury says.

"Yes, but – " Blaine breaks off, sighing. He's not quite sure how to make her understand. "I'm – well, I'm having trouble adjusting."

Ms. Pillsbury nods. "Adjusting to living with mental illness is not easy – "

"Well, it's not even just living with it," Blaine interrupts. "I've – I've been in denial about it up until a few days ago. Just – just the _idea_ that I have depression. It's still so foreign. I don't know what to think, really."

Ms. Pillsbury laughs bitterly. "The good news for you is that I am an expert in denial, Blaine. I'd known there was something off since a very young age, but I refused for many, _many _years to admit that I might have a disorder. Once I did admit to having a problem, medication still wasn't even an option. It's a process, Blaine, and I'm glad you've at least admitted to the idea that you might be suffering."

"So what do I do?" Blaine asks. He's not getting the answers he wants yet. He still doesn't understand. He has depression. Fantastic. He's got medication. Even better – _so what does he do now?_ "Ms. Pillsbury, I just – I don't understand how I'm supposed to go about my day like everything is still normal."

"You're not," Ms. Pillsbury says simply. "Mental illness is not an easy thing to live with, Blaine, but it's not unmanageable. You should soon be realizing that. You don't have to go about your days like everything's okay. That's the key to all of this. There's nothing wrong with being depressed, Blaine – nothing at all. The only that would be wrong would be if you didn't cater to your needs and take care of yourself. From here, Blaine, there's only one thing you need to add to what you're already doing, and that's surrounding yourself with support and positivity. Rely on your friends. Be honest with them about what's happening in your life and with your depression. Cut toxic elements out of your life. Do whatever you need to be happy. You got it?"

Blaine nods, though he's not entirely sure. He doesn't know how to be honest with everyone yet. That's something he's working on with his therapist. And he can't quite cut his parents' toxic behavior out of his life, but again – something he's working on with his therapist.

So maybe Ms. Pillsbury is right. Maybe it's all a process, and maybe the best he can do is just continue to work on the things he can change and accept the things he can't. He's taking his medication, he's seeing his therapist, and he's going to be honest.

He can't pretend like everything is okay all the time anymore, but you know, he's starting to realize he doesn't really want to. Acting like he's always got everything together is terribly exhausting, and it's time to let go, time to allow himself to make mistakes, time to allow himself moments of weakness, time to allow himself to admit to defeat. He doesn't owe anyone anything. The only thing he really owes is happiness to himself.

Right now, it seems, he's got to work on a little bit of everything, and that's okay with him.

With a slight sigh, Blaine pushes himself out of his chair.

"Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury. I'll keep in mind everything you've told me today."

She nods, smiling. "You're very welcome, Blaine – and I want you to know that my office is always open. Whether you have questions, or something to get off of your chest, or maybe you just need to take a breather throughout the day – I'm always here, Blaine."

Blaine nods a little awkwardly.

"I'll see you around then, Ms. P."

"Likewise," she replies. "Have a good day, Blaine."

"You too," Blaine replies, a strained smile on his lips. He gives her one last nod before heading out.

So the talk didn't help a whole lot. He still has so much to figure out and no idea where to start, but if there's one thing he's learned so far, it's that it's okay. It's okay to not have everything figured out right this second, because he will in time.

.

.

**iv.**

Since Burt's diagnosis and especially after Christmas, he and Blaine have been spending ample amounts of time together. It's been stranger, not having Kurt there between them, but it's also given them a better opportunity to form a bond that's all his own. Burt isn't Blaine's father, but in all honesty, he's much better than one Blaine has. And Blaine isn't Kurt or Finn, but he's a wonderful kid all his own, and Burt always makes sure to tell him that.

Burt's been thoroughly honest about his battle with prostate cancer, heavily relying on Blaine's support along with his family's. So it only makes sense that Blaine be honest with Burt about his own struggles. He told Burt about the therapist, about the medication, about everything medical first. It took awhile before Blaine was willing to talk about his feelings and emotions and everything that led to this diagnosis in the first place, but he does.

They're in the shop today, which is something that frequently happens. Burt works on cars, and Blaine does his homework, the old radio on the work bench tuned into some college game. Sometimes Finn passes through, working a shift or just hanging around.

Today, Finn's gone, off studying with Puck. It's just Burt and Blaine, and Blaine's got an insane amount to get off of his chest.

"So, the meds are working, then?" Burt asks. "No catches or anything."

"No," Blaine replies. "I – I didn't even realize how down I was until I started taking the, actually. It's like a weight I hadn't even know was there has been lifted off my shoulders."

"That's great, Blaine," Burt replies, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "I'm so happy to hear that, kid."

Blaine shrugs. "Yeah, and – well, therapy's the same as always. It's hell to work through, but it's worth it."

"You'll get the hang of it," Burt reassures him. "If you open up to him like you do to me."

"Yeah, maybe," Blaine sighs, looking around the garage. There are so many signs hanging around; he thinks he finds a new one every day, just as rusted and old as the last. "But Dr. Garcia isn't you. He doesn't care about me in the same way. I don't get the same kind of satisfaction, even if he is more qualified to help."

"Well, you always know I'm here, son."

"Yeah, I – I know."

Blaine heaves a deep breath. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, just itching to be asked. A conversation desperate to be broached, ready to be digested. It's been there for awhile now. Blaine just hasn't worked up the courage to voice it yet.

"Burt?" he asks, mouth going dry.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Alright."

"It's about Kurt."

"I already gave you my opinion, son."

Blaine almost laughs. "No, no – it's not about that." He heaves another deep breath. "It's about – it's – well, I – he doesn't know about any of this. He doesn't know about the therapist, or the medication, or everything in between. And – and I want to tell him, I just – I don't know how."

Burt doesn't say anything right away. He grabs a crowbar from the bench behind him and shoves it underneath the car's hood he's currently working on. Once situated, he gives it a yank, testing to make sure it's steady before he towels the grease off his hands and pulls up a stool across from Blaine.

"Look, kid. I don't want to pressure or push you into anything, because it's your life, and it's your choice whether to tell Kurt or not." Burt reaches a hand up, his mind evidently working faster than he can speak. "I've been by Kurt's side for eighteen years, Blaine. I know him better than anyone, no matter how much you think you might. I raised him, and I know what kind of person he is. He's an exceptionally understanding and kind young man, as I'm sure you know. You two are well on your way to working out whatever happened this past fall, and I know Blaine, that no matter what you tell him, no matter what you decide to or to not reveal, Kurt will accept you no matter what. You know he loves you, Blaine, and Kurt's not so shallow he would let your mental illness change that."

Blaine nods, too overwhelmed to say much. He's suddenly filled with a gratefulness he can't quite convey. Burt's eyes are locked straight on his, nothing but kindness in them, and Blaine knows that Kurt's caring nature and level-headedness didn't just come from his mother. He's very much his father's son as well.

"Thank you, Burt," he says heavily. "I don't think I say it enough, but I appreciate everything you've done for me, especially in regards to this."

Burt nods, offering a sad smile. "I've told you time and time again, kid. No matter what kind of relationship you and Kurt have, you're welcome in this family." He claps Blaine on the shoulder as he stands up, and Blaine watches with a sense of contentment as Burt goes back to work.

Sure, his own family has been supportive in their own way, but they're nothing like Burt and his unconditioned, easy-going giving nature. Cooper's pushy and invasive, his father's distant but determined, and his mother's a mix of the two. Thankfully, Burt's there to balance them out, and honestly, Blaine doubts he could have gotten through all of this if he didn't have Burt there as well.

.

.

v.

This past month has been rough. Right after the bliss of getting engaged, Kurt and Blaine were shattered by Finn's death. A brother in all definitions of the word, and one of their two best men invited to attend the wedding.

Kurt hasn't been as distant as Blaine feared he might be. They've talked openly many, many times about what they're feeling. They've shared memories and wishes. They've cursed and cried and broken down in front of each other, Kurt more than Blaine of course, but at the same time, Kurt's family is everything Blaine's never had, and the pain of losing Finn has carved an emptiness inside Blaine like he's never known.

Self-hatred is nothing unfamiliar. It's easier to deal with on some levels, because he has control of that. That kind of pain comes and goes as Blaine decides to act on it, but he'll never be able to shake the ache that is losing a brother and a friend like Finn.

There's nothing to be learned from any of this, but there are things to be reconsidered and reevaluated.

For one, Kurt and Blaine decide to do the opposite of what many would think. They're still engaged, they're still getting married, but they're not going to rush the process. They're going to do it right once, and if mistakes come, they'll learn from them right away and push on.

They've also promised to be more open and honest with one another. They don't want another incident like The Breakup, as they've elected to call it. They know that the other is the one, and there's nothing they can't get through if they try.

The first two weeks after Finn's funeral, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's just the two of them, sometimes Carole or Burt or both of them join Kurt and Blaine in Kurt's bed. At this time, they're not just boyfriends or fiancés. They're best friends, they're family, and they need each other now more than ever.

When they're alone, they talk. And when they aren't alone, they talk with Carole and Burt.

It's a night when they're alone that Blaine decides to come clean.

It's late, later than either of them care to admit, and they both know they'll be exhausted the next day, but it doesn't really matter. They've been exhausted for weeks now.

"Kurt," Blaine says softly.

It takes Kurt a long time to answer, but Blaine doesn't mind.

"I'm here."

"I – I need to talk to you about something."

"Go ahead. I'm not getting to sleep anytime soon."

Blaine heaves a deep breath, his mind churning through sentence after sentence, unsure exactly how to begin this conversation.

"I just – Finn – his – his death has made me do a lot of thinking, and I – I need to be honest with you."

"There wasn't another guy was there, because I don't think I can have that conversation now. Or ever, to be honest."

Blaine huffs half-hearted laugh, and Kurt cracks too, curling onto his side and slinging an arm over Blaine's waste.

"No," Blaine says. "No, it's nothing like that. I mean – it's probably worse actually, depending on how you look at it."

"Oh, God," Kurt groans, burying his face in Blaine's chest.

"You don't need to worry about it now, I promise," Blaine says, rubbing a hand up and down Kurt's forearm. "I just think it's high time I'm honest about something that's been going on with me."

Kurt heaves a sigh. "Alright, lay it on me."

"I don't know if I can just 'late it on you'," Blaine says with a slight laugh, "but I'll try."

He takes one last breath before he launches into it.

"Back in November, before you called me for the first time since we broke up, I was having a really hard time. I'd been struggling since before you left, and then after you did, and then I was an idiot, and basically I was in a terrible, terrible place.

"Well, Cooper had been continuously checking up on me, but I refused to talk to him. Of course, he took it upon himself to take matters into his own hand, and he showed up at the house and an extremely convenient time.

"Both of our parents were working that weekend, and I took the opportunity to do something while they were out. You can probably imagine where this is heading."

Kurt stiffens beside him, his fist grasping tightly to Blaine's shirt.

"I had a Darvon cocktail ready, you know - basically a bunch of pills that would put me to sleep and kill me while I was under. I'd been working myself up all day, trying over and over to choke it down, but I never made it. I never got a single pill in my mouth. Cooper showed up in the early afternoon, and he found it in my bathroom, in the medicine cabinet. He told my parents immediately, and of course, they sent me to a therapist as soon as possible. My mom really wanted me to spend time in a hospital, but I was able to talk myself out of that one."

Kurt's eerily silent, and Blaine allows him a moment to think, to process what Blaine has just told me. Internally, Blaine's thanking sleep deprivation for the courage to make this confession.

"I don't even know what to say," Kurt breathes after a moment. "I'd cry but I'm so tired of crying."

Blaine rubs his upper arm again, saying softly, "Don't cry. I'm okay, now, Kurt. I'm going to therapy, I'm on anti-depressants. I'm fine."

Kurt holds Blaine tighter, and Blaine thinks he can feel something hot and wet bleeding into his shirt. Kurt's crying silently.

"I just can't imagine losing you. Especially not at a time like this," he whispers.

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaine promises. "I'm right here, Kurt. I'm right here."

"Just the thought," Kurt continues. "Even the idea of you killing yourself. I can't think about it, Blaine. I can't. I mean – I'm so incredibly glad you've gotten help and you're taking care of yourself – it's just."

"I know," Blaine says, finishing the thought for him. "I know it's scary to think that those thoughts ever came from my mind. I know it's scary that they're suppressed somewhere in there, but as long as you're here, Kurt – I'll be fine. Your support is enough."

"Then I'm here," Kurt replies without missing a beat. "I promise, Blaine. I'm never leaving you. Never again."

"And I won't leave you."

"So we have a deal."

"We do."

"And you promise me?" Kurt asks, craning up his neck to look at Blaine. "You promise me that you're happy now? That the medication works and therapy is helping and everything."

"I promise you," Blaine replies. "I'm right as rain."

"Good," Kurt breathes. "Good." He hugs Blaine again, refusing to let ago as they drift off to sleep.

.

.

It's been a difficult journey, it really has. It hasn't been easy learning to accept his fate and do what he's needed to manage the terrible burden that is depression, but nobody's lying when they say that honesty is the best policy. As long as Blaine has voice his thoughts and emotions, he's been able to heal and avoid relapse. He's taken care of himself, and the support system he has is only a huge added bonus.

Every confession he makes, each new person he comes clean to takes a little more weight from his shoulders. Of course, the hardest confession has been to himself, and he's still working his hardest to be honest when it comes to recognizing his needs, but he's improved tremendously.

He knows.

He knows that someday all of this will be behind him, and that's what matters now, that's what keeps him going. That, and the people he calls his friends and family.


End file.
